


another day

by Pomfry



Series: 700 followers drabbles [3]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Movie Night, This whole thing is just Kon thinking about how much he loves Tim, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, sappy thoughts, this is all just fluff okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 02:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomfry/pseuds/Pomfry
Summary: “Now go press play. I have popcorn to make.”“Popcorn is so boring, though,” Tim protests, and Kon rolls his eyes. “No, listen - popcorn is always used as a food for during movies? Why don’t we eat fries instead? Go against the flow, you know?”“Number one: you just rhymed.” Kon squints his eyes at the cabinet holding the potatoes. “And number two: do you want fries? They’ll take longer, but I can do them.”“Who do you take me for, a heathen?” Tim huffs. “Make popcorn and I’ll get the candy I swear to Bruce I don’t have.”





	another day

“Tim?” Kon calls from the kitchen as he slices little vent holes into the top of the pie. Ma had taught him how to make it when he'd stayed with them, and he's held the recipe close ever since. He opens the oven door, gently places the pie on the middle tray and closes the door. Wiping his hands, he pokes his head out of the small kitchen of their apartment. “Tim?”

Tim looks up from his computer, smiling when he catches sight of him. “Yeah?”

“What do you want to do for movie night?”

Tim pauses, eyes far away as he runs through the movies they have, the movies they’ve been meaning to watch, and the movies on Netflix. Kon waits patiently, wiping his hands on his pants; he finds a certain peace in baking, and after everything that’s happened - well. Baking is certainly one of the less self-destructive coping mechanisms he could have chosen.

“How about Paranorman?” Tim ventures after a moment, and Kon hums, nods. Paranorman is a favorite here, a classic. They’d watched it on one of their first dates and it quickly became one of the more watched movies. Some they haven’t watched in a year.

“Sounds good to me,” Kon says, and retreats back into the kitchen, taking a rag and wiping down the counter. “Go on and put it in, the pie should be done at about the end.

Tim makes a noise of agreement and Kon hears the DVD player opening and closing. That DVD player had been a gift from Jason - updated by Roy, he’d said with something proud in his voice - and they’ve stuck with it ever since. Soft footsteps reach his ears, and he stays in place so Tim can wrap his arms around him, resting his forehead on his back.

“Hello there,” he says quietly, not wanting to break the mood, and Tim sighs back. “Rough day?”

“Rough  _ week,”  _ Tim corrects, and when Kon turns, he slumps against his chest. “I’m trying to get an idea across the board that will help hundreds of people - some of them not even in Gotham - and they keep. Saying. No.” He thumps his head, once, twice, before Kon manages to pull him away.

“That doesn’t mean you have to hurt yourself over the frustration,” Kon says gently, and Tim wrinkles his nose at him, the sunset from their window making his skin glow, and Kon - Kon can’t help but fall in love a little bit more.

Thing is - before everything, this would never have happened. Before all the suffering, before all the maturing, they were just kids with crushes and the weight of a responsibility they were too young for on their shoulders. Kon had been hot headed and Tim naive and this type of moment is their salvation, their day of peace, and they wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

A bop to the nose makes him blink.

“You’re thinking sappy thoughts again,” Tim tells him, the line of his smile soft, and he presses a kiss against the edges of his lips. “Don’t think those. They make you melt and you know it.”

_ “You _ make me melt,” Kon corrects, smiling wryly. “You’re the one who makes me think all those sappy thoughts.”

“Blasphemy!” Tim laughs, and rests his chin on Kon’s chest, looking up at him with adoration. “I do no such thing.”

“Then why is it that all of my sappy thoughts are about you?” Kon counters, and chuckles when Tim pouts at that, unable to refute it. 

“Witchcraft,” Tim insists after a moment of comfortable silence. “Sorcery. We know people. They could have cast a spell upon you.”

Kon laughs, low and throaty, and watches as Tim’s face turns a light pink. “Whatever you say, dear,” he says, and presses a kiss against Tim’s cheek. “Now go press play. I have popcorn to make.”

“Popcorn is so boring, though,” Tim protests, and Kon rolls his eyes. “No, listen - popcorn is always used as a food for during movies? Why don’t we eat fries instead? Go against the flow, you know?”

“Number one: you just rhymed.” Kon squints his eyes at the cabinet holding the potatoes. “And number two: do you want fries? They’ll take longer, but I can do them.”

“Who do you take me for, a heathen?” Tim huffs. “Make popcorn and I’ll get the candy I swear to Bruce I don’t have.”

“So picky,” Kon teases, and Tim winks.

“You got that right,” he replies, and floats from the room. Kon watches him go, something warm in his chest as the sight of Tim being so happy, so obviously content. Before, that wouldn’t have happened. Before Tim was breaking, ready to fall over the edge and no one was helping him, no one was seeing the signs. Kon wasn’t there, stuck in a limbo with no way out until Flash freed him. And when he’d seen Tim, aching and lonely and oh so close to cracking, he’d lunged for him with both hands and held him close. And -

Well, things naturally progressed from there.

Kon wipes down the counters, cleans up his mess. Never once, he muses as he cleans off the excess flour, did he imagine they would fall into this routine. Movie Nights were ultimately Tim’s idea in the end, but Napping Days were his in an attempt to get Tim to sleep more. And, surprisingly, it had worked. Tim sleeps better with someone there, someone warm, and Kon just so happens to fit that bill.

(Napping Days are some of Kon’s favorite days because he gets to see Tim relaxed and asleep, the noon sun making him look ethereal.)

But this whole life they have together, with Kon running the bakery downstairs and Tim coming home every day at six thirty on the dot, is so achingly domestic that it makes him smile like a goof, even if once upon a time it would have made him cringe.

“Kon? You ready?” Tim leans over the island. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking sappy thoughts again,” he jokes, and Kon bites the inside of his lip to keep his smile in.

“Nope,” he says, and goes to sit down on the couch. Tim is curled up in his side in an instant, watching as the horrible zombie movie shows up on Norman’s screen. Kon claps his hands and the lights turn off. Tim had insisted on this particular function, and Kon would, under extreme duress, reluctantly admit that it’s useful.

Tim shifts, reaching out for something, then pauses.

“Kon, did you forget the popcorn?”


End file.
